“Gillette: the best a man can be.” The commercial ends and the screen once again shows Sunday football. But something feels off. Hmmm… am I too straight, white and male to continue using my trusty Gillette razor?

Strolling through the aisles of my local supermarket, I come across a glimmering beacon of hope. The all-new “Alpha Male razor” catches my attention. Unlike Gillette, this brand markets towards guys named Chad or Steve, men like me who enjoy the simple things in life: red meat, the Fourth of July and most of all, women. This specific razor appealed to me because I lack the level of confidence that a real man would have, and search for ways to justify my non-existent masculinity with material items. My father may or may not be proud of me, and I constantly feel the need to vouch for his love and approval.  I thought of him as I picked up the razor’s high-quality leather, which was stripped right off the back of a Texas longhorn because men like me aren’t into that vegan nonsense.

The Alpha Male Razor comes in many varying forms; one option doubles as a swiss army knife and another a chainsaw because a man’s facial hair is too tough for a regular, wimpy razor.

“This product might slice my face open, but I’m not taking advice from a woman,” said one Alpha Male customer. “Hands off my razor and my politics.”

One aspect that I really love about the razor is the fact that it doesn’t go with the flow. In response to Gillette’s about so-called “toxic masculinity,” this razor is a misogynistic one, just for those angry and bitter men who feel betrayed.

Thanks to Alpha Male, I have rejuvenated my testosterone levels, regained my reasoning behind voting for Trump and most importantly put down that sissy of a razor, otherwise known as Gillette.

I make my way to the checkout line, my cart filled to the brim with beef jerky, ultra-strength deodorant and Monster energy drinks. The cashier behind the register is a very attractive young woman. She nods at me and says hello, to which I respond, “Hey girl, besides having a nice bod, what do you do for a living.”

She snarkily responds with an eye roll, “Umm, I’m a cashier.”

I left the store confused; I thought that women were the ones who were supposed to be disrespected.